Lady Fortuna: Short One-off
by Augustrad
Summary: A fun little writing challenge between friends.


This was a challenge done between myself and Darkfire7881. The challenge was to take a random and unrelated image and make a one-off story based on it. The images used are the cover photos for this story. I did one for Command and Conquer, and Darkfire7881 is going to do one for StarCraft. The rules are simple, make a story loosely based on the image. Could be short or long, serious or silly.

Hope you guys enjoy this fun little story. I'm probably going to keep this up to some degree as to not get rusty :)

**Lady Fortuna**

Barnett could hardly believe it. This was supposed to be the quiet part of the line, so much for that. He dodged bullets, lasers, and who knows what else to get to the cover of a partially destroyed concrete bunker. His breathing returned to normal or as best as it was going to get. Reviewing the terrain he had just crossed, the goddess Fortuna must have been on his side. If only that luck carried over to his gambling and debts. To hell with it, he saw the next rally point up ahead and went for it. The Attack Buggies and TIck Tanks, of course, took notice of him and only him so it seemed.

Using both manmade and natural ditches and obstacles for cover, Barnett successfully made it through the symphony of metal and smoke. Other comrades did not fare as well as him. A makeshift medical tent was set up in the rear with a number of injured, and a brief glance over justified an exhale. He actually recognized a number of people on stretchers. The thing was, everyone that ended up next to him for whatever reason on the battlefield had the worst luck of all.

There was Bratcher sitting on the ground by the entrance with a bandage over one eye and half his head. They had got stuck inside a bombed-out gun store and in a close-quarters firefight. They had cornered their last enemy and he even ran out of bullets. As they closed in for the kill, the fucker had found a crossbow with a single arrow. Next thing Barnett knew, he was hitting the ground as a medieval-era bullet flew overhead and smacked his partner in the left eye. Dark sense of humor or not, his first thought was that thank god it wasn't the knee.

Nearby and laying on a stretcher was Philmore. That guy was a lucky son of a bitch even with the bullshit of his injury. He and Barnett were hunkered down in a bunker, safe behind the thick walls. Well, enemy artillery became aware that the bunker was now occupied and zeroed in their shot like a magician on their first try. Lucky for Barnett and company, the ordinance was a dud. The shell penetrated the bunker ceiling but did not go off. Philmore would have been ground zero as the tip of the shell scraped his helmet as he stood up. Elated at the revelation of being alive, they all had a good laugh. But then a second shell hit nearby and the shockwave jarred loose enough concrete that the heavy as fuck shell fell completely through the ceiling and pinned Philmore to the ground.

Lastly, there was Healey. That guy got a surprise for sure. He was watching Barnett's six as they were moving corner to corner. One bad corner and a machine gun nest later, Healey became a magnet for all ricocheting bullets that somehow avoided wherever Barnett stood. Barnett eventually knocked out the nest with a lucky grenade bounce but Healetly had to be evacuated out asap to nearest CCP. It would hurt to sit for a few weeks even after removing the bullets from his ass.

A tank shell and following implosion of dirt brought him back to the immediate threat. A quick shift to his left and right saw that no one was within ten feet, the word had spread like wildfire. The closest guy was almost twenty feet away and reloading behind the wreckage of a Wolverine. Barnett was a prime target for anyone looking his way as he was the only target.

"Barnett, that you?!"

Behind him, Sergeant O'Neil had crawled about ten feet behind him. "Yea, it's me."

"Good." O'Neil surveyed the chaos around them. "Hold down this position a bit longer, got a flanking element about to move. They will need a target du...distraction for at least five minutes. Keep up the good work!"

"Roger that, Sergeant!"

Fucking hell, of course, he was the bullet sponge. If his luck held out then it would not be that bad. Honestly, it could be a lot worse. Then he noticed the guy behind the Wolverine had been watching him the entire time. He returned the look with a 'What the fuck?' glare himself. The soldier quickly turned away.

Had the guy been observing to see if was going to be shot at or something? It sure as hell looked that way. Barnett ignored him for now. He never wished for anything bad upon others, but little things like that had begun to tick him off the more they happened. Though now that he thought about it, the gunfire had died down around him since that one tank shell. The enemy seemed to focus their attention elsewhere. The guy at the Wolverine also took notice. He checked his left and right limits, and of course one final look in Barnett's direction before poking his head out. Right on cue, a sniper or at least someone with a damn good shot scored a hit. The blood splattered on the burning metal carcass.

Barnett was speechless, he was a fucking Avalon to anybody within sight range of him. He sighed, swapped mags, and moved forward to his next objective. Just another day like any other.


End file.
